Pointless Love

Just pondering if my feelings for someone serve any purpose beyond fading away.

What's the point of this love?
What can I even do?
I could pay it forward,
but nobody else is you

I often sing sweet songs,

but not in your ears
it's usually when I'm alone
just crooning to the air

I write rhymes for you

and then I read them to myself
You are such a potent muse
that I could fill a shelf

I go to places I hope you'd like,

but at the moment they're just for me
It's almost as though I like them less
if I can't use the word "we"

I sit here and spin my wheels,

but I don't go anywhere
I can't tell if this hurts or heals
and I don't know why I care
I know this isn't a game
I know you're not a prize
Just the fact I always think of you
is a detriment to my pride

Author's Note

opinions welcome